


Simon Looks Dejected

by Ida_Phillips



Category: American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF, British Singers RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3109349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ida_Phillips/pseuds/Ida_Phillips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Simon Amstell is forced out of his loneliness.</p><p>Justin Bieber, Ben Wishaw, and hijinks coming soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2 Non Jehovah's Witness Visitors

Simon is at home, doing things. Mostly he’s petting his cat named Solitude or Moses depending on how dismal he feels that day; he’s also making toast, but that doesn’t require much involvement from him.

The lanky 35 year old thinks he looks especially lanky where he’s sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the floor. Mostly he looks dejected, and the cat isn’t helping.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door, and Simon ignores it because he thinks he must have imagined it. He also thinks that even if he didn’t imagine it, the only people who ever visit him are Jehovah’s Witnesses, and they don’t understand his jokes.

The second knock scares the cat off, and now Simon has nothing to pretend to do while he’s not getting the door so he groans and heaves his frail body off the floor and goes to answer the knocking.

 

When the door finally opens, Ezra Miller beholds the man who opened it and thinks he looks dejected.

“Hello, I’m Ezra,” Ezra says, holding out his hand. Simon stares at the hand with wide, panicky eyes, as if it were made of spiders and had knives instead of fingers. Eventually Ezra is forced to retract his hand because he looks like a fool, and Simon is clearly a deaf-mute.

“Are you homeless or an evangelist?” Simon finally says, suddenly not a deaf-mute. Ezra shrugs.

“Neither. I’m an actor.”

“Well you look like Jesus.”

“I’m not Jesus.”

“You should cut your hair then; you’re sending mixed messages.”

Ezra blinks a few times, and Simon laughs inwardly at his own joke.

“May I come in?” Ezra asks after a few moments, and Simon steps aside because he’s bewildered and not very good at saying no to people. Ezra follows Simon to Simon’s couch and sits down. Simon prefers to stand.

“We actually look sort of similar. I like how you don’t really conform to the gender binary.”

Simon swallows uncomfortably.

“Thank you-”

There’s another knock. Simon thanks Jesus for the interruption, but not the young, American Jesus sitting on his couch.

“I’d better get that,” Simon says, and Ezra nods.

 

Mika straightens his suave jacket and smoothes his suave hair while he waits for someone to answer the door. The man who does answer the door is sort of attractive, he thinks, but mostly he looks dejected.

“Hello, my name is Mika, and I’m a multi-lingual pop-artist.”

Simon, emboldened by his building irritation, decides to passive-aggressively comment.

“Don’t you think it was a waste of time to learn another language? We’re all going to die anyway.”

Now Mika is uncomfortable, and Simon can breathe again.

“I had to learn French when I was a child and my parents moved to Paris, wonderful city, everyone is so fabulous there, almost as fabulous as I am.”

Simon watches Mika shoulder past him and his face is like a sad puppy’s face, but sadder than that.

Simon eventually makes his way back to his hardly-furnished livingroom where Ezra is fondly stroking his cat and Mika is admiring himself in the mirror. Simon thinks there’s too much gay in his house, and he feels claustrophobic.

“So what was your letter about?” Mika finally asserts, and Simon has no idea what he’s talking about. Ezra looks up from the cat and brushes some hair out of his face; he seems to know more than Simon as well. Naturally.

“My what?” Simon thinks to say after a while. Mika pulls a wrinkled piece of paper out of his pocket. He scans it and eventually looks back up at Simon.

“You’re Simon Amstell; aren’t you?”

Simon hesitates.

“Unfortunately yes.”

Mika goes back to scanning the paper.

“Alright well, I got a letter from you-”

“From me?”

“Yes, and it says that you are very lonely-”

“I do say that a lot, don’t I?”

“Simon please.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

Mika waits to make sure Simon is done interrupting. Simon can’t be sure himself.

“It says you are very lonely, and you wish that I would come and stay with you a while.”

There’s a long period of silence. Simon thinks he’ll wake up any second now.

“My letter said the same thing,” Ezra adds helpfully.

“I wrote you a letter as well,” Simon says and it’s more dejected than ever. Ezra nods. Mika starts advancing on Simon with his arms open, and Simon stumbles backwards, horrified.

“I have to say, Simon, it seemed a little desperate and random to have that funny lesbian and her adorable catholic friend send for us for you, but we’re here now, and I promise you never have to be lonely again.” Mika says all this while he wraps Simon in an unnecessarily forceful embrace. Simon laughs like he’s terrified, and he is.

The cat leaps out of Ezra’s arms, and the young man sniffs curiously at the air.

“It smells like something’s burning,” he says so slow it grinds on Simon. Suddenly a smoke alarm goes off and a toaster can be heard bursting into flame in the kitchen. Simon thanks Jesus for the distraction.


	2. Mika's Penis and the Justin Bieber Debacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon experiences repercussions

Simon’s been living with Mika and Ezra for two weeks now, and mostly he wonders where all of Mika’s hundreds of lovers keep coming from. He also doesn’t know how much longer it’ll be before he caves and lets Ezra paint a mural on his living room ceiling. These problems are on a back burner at the moment though, because right now Simon really needs to use the bathroom.

“Mika, please. I need to take a shower,” he says, pounding again on the door. Mika is singing very loudly. Simon can hear things breaking, but he’s interrupted mid-panic by a hesitant tap on his shoulder. It’s Ezra holding two halves of Simon’s comb.

“Simon, I tried to comb my hair, like you said, and I broke your comb. I’m sorry-”

“Cut your damn hair, Ezra-”

“Leave him alone, Simon. I think his hair is cute,” Mika chirps from the bathroom. Simon fumes for a moment, and god damn it Ezra is not honestly blushing right now.

“You’ve been in the bathroom for four hours, Mika. What haven’t you done yet?”

“Simon,” Mika’s voice is chiding but still sultry somehow, “you wouldn’t know because you’re a giant, lanky, man-baby, but it takes a lot of time and a lot of work to look as good as I do every day.”

Simon thinks that Mika is being extremely annoying, but also that he has a point.

“I have a show in fifteen minutes, Mika. My hair is flat. It’s going flat. I look ridiculous.”

After a few seconds, Mika steps out of the shower and beholds Simon and Ezra in a towel Simon knows isn’t long enough. The lanky man, terrified he might accidentally look, stares at Mika’s eyes with admirable determination.

“Simon, you couldn’t get your hair to be flat if you tried. Let me fix it for you-” Simon swats Mika’s hand away when he tries to touch his iconic locks. Mika tries again and now   
Simon’s using both hands to fend the grabby, naked man off.

“I’m leaving!” Simon finally shouts and snatches his comb back from Ezra. “I’m leaving. You made me leave with your damned wiles. Now I’ll just do the routine with greasy hair!”

He jabs at the air in front of Mika with the comb. Mika is hardly ruffled. Simon thinks he’s losing control of his life. Ezra laughs because he’s remembering something silly that happened to him a week prior.

After a sufficient period of awkwardness, Simon nods to Mika, accidentally looks at his penis now that the towel has fallen off, and practically sprints out of the house.

“Wait, he has a show today? We should go,” Ezra says, and it takes him a very long time to do so. Mika nods and begins styling his hair.

“Yes, Ezra, I agree. Just let me fix my hair. You go put a hat on or something.”

 

A long time later, Simon is about three fourths of the way through his routine when Mika and Ezra show up. He’s right in the middle of the part about Ben, and he thinks this is very embarrassing. His hair is greasy for Christ’s sake.

For some reason, Simon says some words upon their walking in, and god he’ll regret them for as long as he lives.

“Oh look everyone,” he cringes, but everyone is already looking and it’s too late to take it back, “it’s my friends. That one there, on the left, he’s Mika. He’s very attractive.” Simon clears his throat. This isn’t real. He’s not actually saying these things. “And that’s Ezra; he’s very young. He lives with me, but not in a creepy way. Oh god what am I saying?”

The audience laughs. Simon thinks it must be a pity laugh. Somehow, he continues through the last part of his routine and leaves the stage, badly shaken.

 

“Simon! You were so funny! You didn’t say you were funny!” Mika shouts when he sees Simon making his way over. Ezra is obscured from sight by about two dozen girls who swarmed him as soon as he came in.

Simon is not quite as amused as Mika is, but since he can’t manage actual anger very well, he settles for being miffed and over all sort of dejected.

“I didn’t want you to come.”

Mika laughs and grabs one of the nine drinks various people have bought him in the last twenty minutes.

“Why? You were so funny. What about this Ben kid? Is he real?”

Simon groans. Mika hands him one of his drinks.

“He’s not a kid. He’s an actor.”

“A real actor?”

“No a cat actor in a cartoon; yes he’s a real actor.”

“Why so cheeky? There’s no reason for this cheekiness, Simon. I’m your friend.”

“I’m cheeky because I saw your penis this morning, and I’m trying to cope.”

Simon takes a long drink of the nasty alcohol in his hand while Mika laughs.

“It’s a nice penis, isn’t it? They say those herbal enhancements you get online don’t work, but-”

Simon interrupts with a nearly-hysterical “ha” that’s very loud and very annoying for the people near them. Simon is sort of sorry, but he’s so uncomfortable that he’s hardly in control of his own body.

Not even a second later, a nasally American voice starts shouting from behind them. It’s lisped maybe because its owner is drunk, or maybe because its owner has an annoying god damn voice.

“Hey. Are you Simon Amstell?”

Simon thinks that’s the worst pronunciation of his last name he’s ever heard, but he turns and responds with a nervous, wide-grinned nod.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“I’m Justin Bieber, asshole,” and he punches Simon in the face. Simon, who’s pretty top heavy because of his hair, falls backwards dramatically and takes like two tables with him. 

Ezra starts crying, and Mika steps in between Simon and Justin because weirdly he’s the manliest of all of them.

“Hey, take a breath cutie.” Justin wrinkles his face at Mika’s words. “What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?”

Everyone in the bar is visibly soothed by Mika’s deep, honey-voice. Simon is bleeding badly from his nose, but he gets up anyway and crosses his arms over his chest. He thinks he   
probably looks very dejected all bent over with a black eye and a broken nose. He’s right.

“He said he wants to fuck me until I cry, fucking rapist,” Justin snarls. Simon gestures lazily at him.

“It wouldn’t be hard. You look like you’re already tearing up-”

“Simon,” Mika chides. The crowd is soothed further.

“What? This is ridiculous. I was attacked. Say Bieber’s name; scold Mr. Bieber, the attacker, not me. I’m just a lanky man-baby.”

Mika taps his foot a little bit and narrows his eyes at Simon and then at Justin.

“You know what we’re going to do?”

“Oh god what?” Simon says with obvious apprehension in his voice. Mika smiles.

“We’re just going to hug it out.”

“No-”

“Simon.”

“No, god, he’s a little boy. That’s creepy.”

“Simon Amstell, hug Mr. Bieber right now or I swear to god I’ll make you watch The Notebook with me again.”

Simon practically lunges at Mr. Bieber, and they hug for about half a second before the American pop singer shoves him away and storms out of the bar.

There’s a fair amount of quiet before Mika speaks up again.

“That went rather well, didn’t it? It looked like you two really connected. I’m aroused. Are you aroused, Ezra?”

Ezra nods.

Simon thinks he needs to go home and hide under his bed or in some kind of cabinet for a few months.


	3. A Murder Most Foul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon is mostly confused.

It’s Halloween now and Simon, as always, is being roped into doing things he isn’t comfortable with. The things aren’t even sexual, so Simon’s decides to mope more than he usually would, which is a lot.

It’s sort of hard to mope, though, because Mika is being ridiculous, and Ezra is sitting crosslegged in a chair. He’s so skinny Simon has to avert his eyes and force himself to think about fat women and other things that don’t turn him on.

“Simon, you aren’t dressed up and we need to leave in an hour,” Mika nags. He’s dressed as werewolf Michael Jackson, and the similarity is unnerving. Simon crosses his long arms over his chest and shakes his head.

“I don’t have a costume-”

“Wear the one I got for you.”

“The pig snout? I won’t.”

Mika groans like he’s explained this hundreds of times, and he has, but Simon wasn’t listening. He’s hardly listening now.

“I’m a costume master, Simon. It’s one of my nearly infinite God-given talents, and I know that this is perfect for you.”

Mika holds out the nose, expectation in his beautiful Bambi-eyes. Simon’s eyes are wide and sort of buggy. He throws his arms out to display his exasperation.

“I’m a vegan, Mika. Why would I dress like a pig?”

“Not a pig, Simon, Napoleon from Orwell’s Animal Farm.”

“That’s ridiculous-”

“No. It’s eclectic. Put it on. Ezra wants to go trick or treating before it gets dark out.”

 

So now they’re trick or treating at 6pm, and Simon feels creepy following a sugar-high Ezra around the neighborhood, also he’s wearing a damned pig nose.

After a little while, Ezra starts sobbing with joy, and Mika has to console him. Simon stands awkwardly next to them, but facing away.

“Shh, Ezra, it’s ok. There’s no reason to cry. Don’t you like your costume?”

“It’s perfect, Mika; that’s why I’m crying,” Ezra sobs. Dear god trick or treating is worse than Simon remembers it.

“You dressed him as Jesus; he’s wearing a sheet. It wasn’t that hard.”

Mika gets huffy.

“He’s Zeus, Simon. Please be mindful of the feelings of our child-”

“Our what?”

“Friend, I meant friend. It’s not important. We’re all a family, aren’t we?”

Ezra nods. Simon is horrified. Mika decides it’d be a good idea to start telling stories for some reason.

Simon excuses himself because he sees a drunk Elmo in an alley, and he thinks he’d like a hug from a drunk Elmo. Mika doesn’t notice. He keeps talking about the time he accidentally initiated an orgy in India and how they praise him now as the pasty-white god of sexual pleasure.

 

“Hello, Elmo. You look very soft and inviting; may I have a hug?” Simon asks, and he admits inwardly that he sounds a little drunk himself. Elmo doesn’t hear him. He’s too involved with pulling out a pistol and shooting someone who’s hidden behind a dumpster, and then running away.

Simon stumbles backwards with a panicked expression on his face, and for some reason in that moment he remembers seeing Mika’s penis that one time. He thinks maybe witnessing a murder in an alley isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

When he gets up, Simon realizes that he doesn’t have his phone on him to call 911, or whatever they call in Britain, so he just moves cautiously around the dumpster to look at the body-

Fucking Christ it’s Justin Bieber.

He’s not as sexy now as he was in life, but that might be because half his face is exploded. Mika arrives from some weird direction before Simon has any more poorly timed thoughts.

“Oh. My. God. Simon, what did you do?” he gasps. Simon whirls around and shakes his head.

“What did I do? I just walked over here and elmo shot Justin Bieber-”

“Oh, Simon,” Mika says it with a pity-riddled tone of resignation in his voice and puts a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “It’s happened. I think you finally cracked.”

“Cracked?”

“Yes. It looks to me like you’ve actually had manic depression this whole time; now we’re just getting into the manic part.”

“But I didn’t-” Mika puts a finger to Simon’s lips and shushes him.

“Shhhh, it’s ok. You’re just a sad, awkward giraffe trying to live his secluded, little life; I am a lion, and I will help you, Simon.” Mika’s finger was on Simon’s face for that whole sentence. Only just now is Simon allowed to speak.

“I didn’t kill Justin Bieber, Mika. Elmo killed him,” he tries to say again, cringing at how insane he sounds. Mika nods knowingly.

“Right, “elmo.” Simon, what’s elmo spelled backwards?”

“Omle?”

“Yes, and omle is clearly a perversion of the name Simon. Obviously, elmo is your schizophrenic, murderous alter-ego, but we don’t have time to talk theology right now, grab Justin’s feet.”

As Simon does as he’s told, he grumbles.

“Perversion? Where are you learning these words? Who’s teaching these words to you?”

“I make sure to learn posh words to use in casual conversation, because that way people will know how posh I am.”

Simon wishes he didn’t ask.

They heave Justin Bieber into the dumpster and suddenly some policemen saunter into the alley, looking amiably investigative.

“What are you boys doing back here?” one of the cops asks. Simon fidgets but Mika is very cool about the whole situation.

“Nothing, officers,” he says flirtatiously, batting his eyes more aggressively than a hooker. The other cop gets a cane from somewhere and twirls it.

“You mean you weren’t just paying him for sex?” he says with his eyes narrowed. He’s speaking to Mika but he points at Simon. Simon is put out by this.

“Why am I the prostitute? I’m wearing a pig nose. Mika is obviously the lady of the night of either of us; look how pretty he is,” the lanky man protests. The police are confused.

“You think I’m pretty?” Mika swoons. The cop with the cane interrupts before Simon can explain that he was trying to be insulting.

“So you admit that someone was paying someone to put their penis somewhere?”

Simon and Mika scoff.

“What does that even mean? Are you a real cop?” 

The cop pulls out his badge to show them. It’s very clearly a plastic imitation badge from like a dollar store or some shit.

“Looks like a coupl’a phonies, Simon, looks like it’s up to us to take care of these crooks,” Mika grunts in a sinister? voice. Simon’s eyes get wide and he looks at Mika like he’s lost his damn mind.

“What the fuck, Mika? They’re probably just trick or treaters. Why would we attack them?”

“Oh now you’ve got some kind of problem with killing people? It’s too late now, Simon. Justin Bieber’s dead in that dumpster, and if you don’t grow some testicles and put a bullet in these cops’ brains, I’ll have you join him.” Fucking Christ Mika’s screaming now and the cops, looking more 14 than they did earlier, are terrified. Simon’s chest heaves with the stress of the situation, almost like he might pass out. He’s not that lucky.

“What the hell is happening?” Simon shouts instead. Mika pulls a gun on him, wild eyed and seemingly capable of murder.

“Make your choice, Simon! Them or you! I swear to god I’ll shoot you right in your fucking head if you don’t do what I say!”

“Fine! Fine, Mika! Give me the gun!” Simon shouts, and Mika hesitates for a moment before tossing the gun over. Simon immediately points the gun back at Mika and pulls the trigger three times in quick succession.

Nothing happens. The gun is fake.

Simon turns the gun a few times in his hands, confusion crossing his face.

Eventually, Ashton Kutcher comes walking into the alley, laughing and clapping.

“Simon Amstell! Guess what?”

Simon blinks a few times.

“What?” he asks finally. Ashton gestures dramatically with his hands.

“You’ve been Punk’d!”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Ashton hesitates.

“It’s a show where we prank people. We pranked you,” he says finally, sort of dejected. Simon’s eyes flare with rage but JB pops out of the dumpster before he can lash out with his vicious, vicious words.

“Ha! Take that, asshole!” He jumps out of the trashcan and runs off into the night. Now Simon is free to flare all he wants. He turns back to Ashton and starts shrieking.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought I was going to get shot in my fucking face you shit head!”

Ashton takes a few steps back.

“Simon, it was a joke, calm down-”

“No! No! Get out of here, skinny shit!” Simon yells like he’s some kind of harpy. Ashton literally runs the fuck away, same with the fake cops. It’s just Simon and Mika in the alley now.

There’s a long awkward quiet where they just listen to Simon’s breathing slow down. Eventually it gets to a relatively normal rate, and Simon notices that Mika looks vaguely irate.

“What?”

“I just find it funny how you like didn’t even hesitate before shooting me.”

“Mika, I didn’t shoot you.”

“Whatever, your intent was to shoot me.”

“You were going to kill me and two fourteen year old kids.”

Mika grunts.

“No, I get why; I just thought our friendship went deeper than that. Our friendship is worth a little hesitation to me, but whatever. It’s fine.”

Simon thinks he might rather the prank had been real.


	4. Mika Records a Music Video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""

Simon has been dragged all the way to this quaint little recording studio where Mika does his videos, and wow he is so annoyed right now, but Mika is very enthusiastic, so that’s probably some kind of positive outcome, Simon supposes.

Ezra is with Simon, holding his hand and playing with a balloon someone gave him a little while ago. Simon asked them not to, but they had just glared at him and handed over the balloon anyway. It’s like people think he’s some kind of monster who wants to rob a child of their laughter when actually all he wants is for his hair to stay in one place, and if Ezra keeps hitting him in the damn head with that fucking balloon he is going to lose it and look like a wilted poodle while he does.

Mika is in makeup, and that skinny, narcissistic popstar cannot get out fast enough. They aren’t raising   
Ezra together, but basically they are, and Simon is as inept a father as he is a stripper. Both images should horrify you.

Suddenly there’s a commotion and two interns are actually rolling out a literal red carpet for Mika to walk to stage on. Simon is enraged deep in his heart at this, but he can’t help but notice how perfect the red carpet fits Mika. Sort of like how dejection looks good on Simon; a red carpet looks good on Mika, but he swears his cheeks are on fire because of the anger, not because of Mika’s bone structure.

“Simon…, look… at my balloon…” god Ezra talks so slow. Simon glares at the wall across the room and grinds his teeth together.

“I’ve never seen a worse balloon Ezra-”

“You’re.. not looking at it..”

“I saw it when that woman gave it to you even though I very politely asked her not to-”

“You.. told her.. she should choke on it.”

“She should.”

Ezra starts sniffling and Simon is very not prepared for this.

“No, Ezra, please don’t cry. Look, we’re alright; it’s alright,” he makes a face, “see, I’m an elf. You kids like   
elves, don’t you? Elves are fun. They’re silly.”

Mika interrupts the display. Simon is grateful, but he also sort of wishes he wasn’t a person anymore. Maybe if he was a cat people wouldn’t force him to interact with them like this. Unfortunately he isn’t a cat and now it’s his turn to say words, but he didn’t hear what Mika said so here goes nothing.

“That’s right, Mika, and we should cut his hair when we get home don’t you think?”

“What? Who are you talking to, Simon? I didn’t say anything,” Mika says. Simon has outdone himself. At   
least Ezra’s laughing instead of crying now.

“I think I just blacked out for a few seconds.”

Mika nods and says he has to go film now. He does, and Simon watches, a little more intently than usual because this is not the usual obnoxious, loud, energetic ridiculousness Mika usually expels like an irradiated Katy Perry. It’s soulful, vulnerable, emotional, and beautiful. Mostly it’s vulnerable, and Simon does his best to distract himself from his skyrocketing levels of uncomfortable awkward. He feels like a lanky kid who doesn’t know where to put his hands, that’s basically what he is.

It only gets worse, and soon Simon has to turn around and pretend he doesn’t know where he is. He recites bible verses to himself because that’s supposed to help with compulsive gay thoughts, isn’t it? It doesn’t.

The video takes one shoot, just like all of Mika’s videos and soon Mika is walking over to Simon and Ezra as screaming girls and boys that just materialized from somewhere beg for his autograph. One particularly shifty one is asking for a used pair of underwear. God fame is so weird.

“Did you like my video, Simon? This one was so gloomy; it’s right up your alley.”

Simon perks up when he hears his name, and he turns around, as if he’s surprised to see Mika there.

“Oh, Mika, hello. I wasn’t doing anything,” he says and cringes internally, maybe externally. Mika is suave as fucking ever.

“Ok... I was just asking if you liked my video, Simon. I wrote it while I was doing heat yoga. It’s so surreal; I do heat yoga, and the music just pours out of me. I was born to be a musician, Simon.”

Simon is a little better now because that statement was so annoying it’s like Mika is his actual self again.

“I remember that. You were screaming in a room with the heat turned all the way up, and I called 911,” he says, and there’s less panic in his voice. Mika is handed a drink. Is there a bar in here, where did that come from?

Mika nods.

“That was kind of you, Simon. I thought I was going to die. A pulled muscle is nothing to joke about.”

Shit the vulnerability again. Ezra’s gone, now who’s going to diffuse this because it sure as hell isn’t   
Simon. Simon who knocked over a rack of glass in a department store the other day and just left, even as people yelled after him to ask if he was ok.

“I liked the video. The video was good. Let’s talk about the video,” Simon pled. Mika obviously had some annoying reason for making the video like he did, maybe that’d take a little pressure off.

“Yes, the inspiration for this video came from a time when I was younger, when I still had a stutter and very few friends, and one of my parents fell ill. It wasn’t anything serious, but being young I thought that my world was going to end. My parents were all I had. So I remember trying to get them to dance with me, so that we could all be happy and together one last time. I guess that’s why parties and dancing are so important to me.”

Mika is crying. Ezra is still off somewhere with that fucking balloon. Simon’s eyes are wide and he stares at 

Mika like the man might genuinely be an irradiated Katy Perry.

“No, Mika, don’t cry. See look, I’m an elf-”

Mika ignores Simon and pulls him into a hug like iron. Oh god his face is so close. Those damn cheekbones are just staring Simon right in the eyes.

“You’re such a good friend, Simon-” Mika says and chokes to a stop when he turns his head and Simon’s mouth sort of bumps his, and there’s a little bit of leaning into each other, but not much. They both pull backwards almost instantly and stare at each other in horrified shock.

“Did you just kiss me?” Simon demands, struggling to break free from Mika’s skinny, lean arms. Mika lets go of him, and Simon falls backwards, barely catching himself.

“No. Simon you kissed me.”

“No I didn’t!” Simon says, too loud, and now people are looking, but Mika loves it when people look so he only gets louder.

“I saw you looking at me earlier; you wanted to kiss me-”

“I wanted to, but that doesn’t mean I did,” Simon counters, hissing almost because he’s trying to be quiet.  
Mika suddenly leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s smiling a smug little grin. Simon   
wonders dismally what he did to lose this one.

“You did want to kiss me, then?”

“Everyone wants to kiss you, Mika.”

Mika nods, and the rest of the recording studio nods along with him.

“That’s true, but you especially, because you love me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Fine, you like me.”

“Sort of.”

“Simon, why the hell would you kiss me if you don’t love me and you only sort of like me?”

Simon shrugs.

“You were so sad, and that diet must be working because you’re also especially thin right now. I don’t   
know what came over me, but sad skinny people are my weakness and you know that. This is your fault.”

Mika grins pleasantly and nods.

“I’m irresistible, Simon. I knew you’d come around sooner or later.”

“Shut up. Ezra’s been missing for an hour and a half. We need to go find him.”


End file.
